


Not in the Contract

by orphan_account



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Groping, M/M, Semi-Public Touching, Trans Jonathan Sims, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Elias gets handsy with his Archivist.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75
Collections: Jonelias Week 2020





	Not in the Contract

**Author's Note:**

> Words used to describe Jon’s body: breasts, cock/cunt

Jon looked at himself in the mirror. He could hardly see through his fogged glasses, and the dim lighting of the Archive restroom didn’t help. Still, he knew he looked like a mess. His hair was unkempt and tangled and clung to his cheeks and forehead, damp with sweat and tears. His eyes were a horrid shade of red, either from lack of sleep or from crying. He’d spilled tea on his shirt that morning, and it was definitely not dark enough to hide the stain, but it wasn’t like he had a change of clothes or anything. He leaned against the sink, taking in a deep breath, briefly interrupting the quiet sobs shaking his body. Jon was a wreck, he knew he was, he shouldn’t have come into work but something had pulled him back here, as it always did.

This wasn’t the first time he’d thrown a fit in the Archive bathroom. It was practically a tradition for him, and frankly for several other employees of the Archive, as investigating horrific incidents for hours every day was bound to take a toll on one’s mental health. Jon had stopped locking himself in a stall for his breakdowns long ago, considering the others seemed more bothered by waiting to use the toilet than by witnessing him fall apart. He didn’t fault them for that, of course. He didn’t want sympathy. He just wanted to get this over with and get back to work as quickly and quietly as possible.

Jon didn’t even turn around when he heard the door click open. Best not to acknowledge whoever it was and let them go about their business rather than drag them into his little meltdown.

“Jon, Jon, Jon.”

Elias. Of course it was Elias. It just had to be Elias.

“I thought you had your own bathroom,” Jon snapped, his voice hoarse from crying.

“I do,” Elias replied. “But I can practically hear you from my office. It’s becoming quite distracting.”

“How unfortunate,” Jon grumbled.

“I’m not upset,” Elias said. He moved closer, standing behind Jon and looking at his reflection in the mirror. “I’m just here to check on my most important employee. That is important, isn’t it?”

“I don’t need your help.”

Elias placed a hand against Jon’s back. Jon shuddered, glaring at Elias’s reflection.

_”Don’t fucking touch me.”_

Elias grinned, gently moving his hand in small circles. It might’ve been soothing, if this wasn’t Elias and if Jon had been in the mood to be soothed.

“Or what?” Elias asked. “Are you going to fight me? Hurt me?”

“Perhaps,” Jon growled, tightening his hands into fists.

“Oh, Jon,” Elias sighed. His hand slid lower, fingers brushing over the small of Jon’s back. “We both know you’re in no state to fight.”

“Do you really want to test me right now?”

“Maybe I do.”

Elias dragged his fingers lower, teasing at the hem of Jon’s shirt before slipping underneath and rubbing over his bare back. Jon’s breath hitched.

“Elias, don’t you _dare-_ ”

Elias shook his head, still grinning menacingly.

“Listen to yourself, Jon. Don’t I _dare._ You’re not even threatening me. You know you can’t do a goddamn thing.”

“You think I’m just going to let you do this?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I think. Now either prove me wrong, or drop the act.”

Jon breathed heavily as Elias dragged his fingers lower. His hand was warm, almost pleasantly so, and the skin of Jon’s lower back tingled as his fingers moved lightly across it. He felt one of them dip beneath his waistband and let out a soft whimper. Jon tried to move, to turn and push Elias off of him, but even the slightest movement made him feel like he was about to fall face-first into the sink.

He wasn’t going to fight back. He couldn’t fight back.

Elias reached his other hand around Jon’s body, running it over his chest. Jon winced as his hand brushed over his nipple, and Elias kept it there, massaging it gently. At least the hand on his back was still for now. Jon wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

“Look at you,” Elias whispered, fiddling with the top button of Jon’s shirt. “I love it when you get like this, you know. So… vulnerable.”

Jon closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t want to be vulnerable. He wanted Elias to stop, he wanted to be anything other than _frozen in fear_. Elias undid the top button of his shirt, and then the second, slowly travelling down Jon’s chest until his shirt was hanging open, revealing the dark fabric of his binder underneath. Jon braced himself, waiting to feel Elias’s hand grasping at his breasts, but to his horror Elias instead slid his hand under the fabric of his binder and pulled it upwards. It curled onto itself above Jon’s revealed breasts, digging into the skin of his chest uncomfortably. Jon stared at himself in the mirror, his eyes filling with tears again and mercifully obscuring his view of himself.

“What if someone walks in?” he asked meekly, the cold air of the Archive bathroom biting at his exposed skin. The warmth of Elias’s hand cupping his left breast was hardly a comfort.

“They won’t,” Elias replied, massaging Jon’s breast. It was small enough that Elias could pretty much fit his whole hand around it, squeezing the soft flesh and rubbing his palm over the nipple. Jon whimpered, not out of pleasure, “pleasurable” was probably the last word he’d use to describe this. Of course, Elias seemed to take it as an invitation to continue regardless, moving his other hand up to grab Jon’s other breast. Jon leaned forward, barely holding himself up at this point, realizing only a second later it seemed like he was leaning into Elias’s touch.

“Good boy,” Elias whispered, gripping Jon’s breasts harder. “Are you feeling any better?”

“No,” Jon rasped. “Please, I-I can’t…”

“Shh,” Elias said gently, moving his right hand down to toy with Jon’s nipple. “You’re fine. You’re doing just fine, alright?”

Jon bit his lip, trying not to make a sound as Elias pressed his thumb against his sensitive nipple. His hands were shaking, and his palms were sore from pressing into the sink for so long. He wondered briefly if Elias would hold him up if he fell, and decided he’d rather crack his head open.

Finally Elias removed a hand from Jon’s chest, and Jon was relieved for a brief second before he felt the hand sliding downward, over his belly, landing with his palm against Jon’s belt buckle.

_”No,”_ Jon muttered once again. He tried to sound firm, but he only sounded desperate. Elias traced a finger up and down the zipper of Jon’s trousers.

“No what?” Elias asked. “What do you think this is?”

“You’re-you’re going to-”

Elias moved his fingers lower, brushing over Jon’s clothed cock. Jon gasped.

“Say it,” Elias said smugly. He pressed his hand up between Jon’s legs, over his cunt, pressing at his cock with the heel of his palm.

“Elias, please, stop,” Jon whined. Elias pressed harder in response, grinding the heel of his palm into Jon’s cock. Jon felt a surge of heat between his legs.

“Stop what?”

“Stop touching me! I told you not to fucking touch me, just stop it, please, you’re-”

“Am I hurting you, Jon?”

“N-No, but-”

“Good. Stop me if it hurts.”

Jon opened his mouth to say something, but Elias rubbed firmly at his cock and he moaned instead.

“You sound like you’re enjoying yourself,” Elias said smugly.

Jon shook his head. He didn’t want this. He certainly wasn’t enjoying it. Maybe the growing heat between his thighs begged to differ, but _he didn’t fucking want this._

“I wonder if I can make you come like this,” Elias muttered, dragging his fingers over Jon’s cunt. Jon could feel slick starting to soak into his boxers. He didn’t want to come from this. He didn’t know if he could live with himself if he did.

Jon’s train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. Elias removed his hands from Jon, and Jon breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hello?” The muted sound of Martin’s voice cut through the air. “Er… why is this locked?”

Elias glared. He turned towards the bathroom door, and Jon stood as best as he could on still-shaking legs. He quickly pulled his binder back down and started buttoning his shirt.

“I didn’t even know those doors locked,” he whispered.

“I guess you do now,” Elias grumbled. He went to unlock the door for Martin, and Jon hastily finished buttoning his shirt.

Elias brushed wordlessly past Martin on his way out, and Martin walked in and stood next to Jon at the sink.

“Do you need this?” Jon asked, taking a step back.

“Not at the moment,” Martin replied. “You look upset, is everything alright?”

“Just fine,” Jon muttered. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll only be a moment.”

Martin nodded, giving Jon one last concerned glance before stepping into the stall.

Jon leaned against the sink once more, half expecting to break out in sobs, but nothing came. He was sweating and breathing heavily, and given everything that just happened he felt like he should be upset, but the vile feeling he expected to wash over him didn’t come. He just felt blank, empty, like the last ten minutes didn’t really happen. At least he didn’t feel like crying anymore.

He stepped away from the sink when he heard the door click open. Martin gave him a gentle nod and went to wash his hands, and Jon braced himself for more questions about whether or not he was okay. Thankfully Martin stayed quiet. Jon stood still and breathed, listening to the sound of the sink running and trying to convince himself to move. He ended up following Martin out the door, his knees still shaking, and carefully making his way back to his office.

Jon sat at his desk, staring down at the small pile of statements he had to go through. He couldn’t make himself read them. He couldn’t make himself pick one up. He just sat and breathed. There was an uncomfortably wet spot in his pants, and he could still feel the pressure of Elias’s hands on his breasts, though maybe he’d just put his binder back on too quickly and they were awkwardly positioned.

He was alone. He could check.

Jon sighed and started unbuttoning his shirt. He’d somehow managed to do it up properly before, and he was unreasonably proud of that. It seemed unnecessary to take the shirt all the way off, if he could just open it far enough to open and close the Velcro on his binder that should be fine. Still, he was in his own office, and the odds someone would come in to give a statement right at that moment were slim to none. He opened up his binder and took a moment to breathe, only to be interrupted by a knock on his office door.

“Wait, don’t come in!” he shouted, hoping by some miracle he’d actually locked it this time. He pulled his shirt over himself, only succeeding in covering about half of his chest before the door clicked open and Elias stepped in.

“Getting important work done, I see,” Elias said.

“I-I’m sorry,” Jon muttered, his cheeks growing hot. “I’ll get right back to it, just leave me alone-”

“Leave you alone?” Elias repeated, positioning himself behind Jon’s chair. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“I don’t care. This is perfectly fine, whatever you were doing.” He rested a hand on Jon’s shoulder, fingers teasing over bare skin.

“Don’t…” Jon whispered, only to trail off. Asking Elias to stop was only making him look bad, he may as well just shut up and take it.

“That’s it,” Elias whispered, trailing his hand down Jon’s chest to prod at his nipple. “I’ll do as I please. You know that.”

Jon nodded. He squeezed his eyes shut as Elias’s fingers curled around his breast. Elias leaned down and pressed his face into Jon’s hair, lightly kissing the top of his head. Jon shivered.

The sound of his belt buckle made his eyes snap open. He looked down and saw Elias’s other hand grasping at his belt, desperately trying to unbuckle it without letting go of Jon’s breast. Eventually he managed to undo it and quickly pulled it from Jon’s trousers, tossing it aside. After that he wasted no time undoing Jon’s trousers and thrusting his hand down the front. Jon’s hands shook at his sides, something at the back of his mind telling him to grab Elias by the wrist, to make this stop, but he was paralysed. Elias rubbed at the damp spot on Jon’s underwear and hummed happily.

“You’re still wet for me, aren’t you,” he said softly. “You want this.”

“N-no,” Jon stammered. It wasn’t a command this time, he couldn’t make himself tell Elias to stop. Just a statement that he didn’t want to be defiled like this. As if Elias cared.

He hooked his thumb into the waistband of Jon’s underwear, tugging at it as if he was deciding whether or not to take this all the way. Then he shoved his hand down Jon’s pants without warning. Jon yelped. Elias’s fingers went straight to his cock, rubbing firmly against it. Jon instinctively bucked his hips into the touch.

“See? I knew you wanted this,” Elias said.

Jon shook his head.

Elias dragged a finger lower, over Jon’s cunt. It was dripping with slick. Jon grit his teeth, expecting Elias to shove a finger in, but instead he moved his fingers back to Jon’s cock.

“Aren’t you going to-” Jon gasped, cut off by a whine as Elias increased the pressure on his cock.

“Oh? Would you like that?” He dragged his hand back down, pressing a fingertip to Jon’s entrance. Jon’s muscles tensed at the touch.

“No, I just-”

“Shhh,” Elias whispered, massaging Jon’s breast with his other hand. “Just relax. I’m sure you’ll take it very nicely, you’re already so wet for me.”

Elias pushed his finger into Jon, just to the first knuckle to begin with. It didn’t hurt, Elias’s fingers were slender enough Jon could probably take two of them without much trouble, but the feeling of having something _in_ him was overwhelming in its own right. He could feel his cunt tightening around the invading digit as it pushed deeper, sliding into him as if it belonged there. Elias curled his finger, pressing against an especially sensitive spot, and Jon moaned.

“There we go,” Elias said, kissing Jon’s head again. “You take it so well.”

Jon whined. It was the only thing he could make come out of his mouth, and he hated it. Elias worked his finger inside him, drawing a string of whines and moans from his lips. He kept a hand on Jon’s breast all the while, gently rubbing his nipple. It was so much touch, so much horrible unwanted touch, Jon wanted to scream.

And he did scream, as he came with a shudder the last barrier in his mind broke and he cried out. His cunt squeezed around Elias’s finger as he continued to work Jon through his orgasm. There were tears in his eyes by the time Elias pulled his hand away, wiping slick onto Jon’s already soaked pants.

“See?” Elias said, planting one last kiss onto Jon’s head. “That felt good, didn’t it?”

Jon’s mouth hung open. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t bring himself to make a sound, to _move,_ even-he sat completely still other than his shaking hands and the occasional twitch of hi cunt.

“Do up your shirt and get back to work, alright?” Elias said, making his way towards the door. “There’s someone coming in to give a statement soon, and I’d really like you looking your best.”

He shut the door softly, leaving Jon sitting still and quiet, listening to the thud of his shoes as he walked away.


End file.
